


Don't Forget My Smile

by Shenanigumi (AlleyCatSunflower)



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Ambiguous Slash, Character Study, Drama, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Pre-Canon, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2019-05-13 13:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14749883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyCatSunflower/pseuds/Shenanigumi
Summary: "Souji remembers him blowing in like a storm cloud, untouchable and insubstantial, yet as real and true and full of lightning as any force of nature. The shadow he cast before him could never have matched the darkness he brought with him. Black like winter, perhaps a reflection of his thoughts; a left-handed enigma, swords kept adamantly at his right."A character study, of sorts, following Okita's first and subsequent impressions of the only man he's ever considered an equal in its truest sense. Pre-Hakuōki; overlaps somewhat with Reimeiroku. OkiSai, but not pairing-centric enough to be labeled a romance.





	Don't Forget My Smile

An equal was a rare thing to find.

Day in and day out, Souji stood above the rest, challenging every faceless newcomer unlucky enough to cross his path. More often than not, he was their first and final opponent before they left, as disheartened as Souji himself. The desire to live had never burned so strongly as the days he was beaten, yet now that no one dared raise a hand against him, he found himself growing discontent. If all life had to offer was the dissatisfaction that followed every meaningless victory, what had he been fighting for all that time?

Restless as a cat stalking the training halls, an immaculate hunter playing with his prey before the inevitable kill, Souji hungered for the half-forgotten thrill of flirting with danger, of defiant anguish burning like ardor in his heart and soul alike. Yet every match against someone new only seemed to douse that persistent flame in disappointment, so that he began to wonder whether it had all been a long, blissful nightmare.

And then  _he_ came: Hajime—the beginning.

Souji remembers him blowing in like a storm cloud, untouchable and insubstantial, yet as real and true and full of lightning as any force of nature. The shadow he cast before him could never have matched the darkness he brought with him. Black like winter, perhaps a reflection of his thoughts; a left-handed enigma, swords kept adamantly at his right.

It was immediately clear to Souji that this stranger was younger than him, yet there was a calm and graceful maturity about his features that belied whatever his age may have been. This was not the look of a boy forced into adulthood too soon, like Souji himself, but one of a man whom had embraced it on his own. The stranger's face was impassive, his eyes a deep and guarded blue—like the sky just after twilight.

(Souji is certain he did not initially pay half as much attention to those details as his recollections imply. After all, in those days, a stranger was a stranger, each as unworthy as the next; only once Hajime proved himself in battle did Souji consider him any more than that. Yet that first impression still stands out in his memory, impossibly sharp and bright, like a sun against which all else in his mind is silhouetted.)

All their introductions were mere formalities, a prelude to the meeting of their swords. Hajime moved like the wind, his eyes flashing like starlight on water. This was no battle, but a dance, intimate and impersonal. Back and forth, give and take—step and thrust—lunge and slash—parry and slice—dodge and stab. Bokuto alone could not suppress their mutual passion; they brought their steel with them in their souls.

The match was declared a draw and halted once each of them had struck a few blows, but Souji felt no pain. As his eyes met Hajime's and stayed there, he  _knew_  that they had found themselves in one another. They were kindred spirits, if not kind ones; Hajime, too, longed to stand on even ground, yearning for equal skill. And here, they had both found it.

As he stood down, Hajime gave him a small smile, illuminating like a crescent moon, soft and silent in the cold night sky. Clouds parted to let the light through, and Souji grinned in the newfound warmth, lungs empty, heart full. If Hijikata hadn't offered Hajime a place among them, Souji would have continued that fight to both their deaths rather than let his newest challenger leave freely. This was his destiny, come to him at last, and he'd be damned if he let it slip through his fingers.

Yet, though Hajime accepted Hijikata's offer, he still managed to slide just out of Souji's reach before long. Although he trained at Shiei Hall like everyone else, taking his meals and even going out drinking with them, he slept among them only seldom. It became an unspoken rule not to ask where he went whenever he invariably left, vanishing with the waning daylight; they all knew better than to think he would give them any real answers anyway.

Still, Souji couldn't help but wonder how much Hajime was hiding from them. He didn't trust most people, either—perhaps that persistent suspicion came from walking alone—but neither did he keep secrets. Hajime, on the other hand, never gave a reason for leaving beyond some vague obligation; perhaps he felt that he still belonged somewhere else, despite all he'd found at Shiei Hall. But Souji  _knew_  his place was standing opposite him in the training hall, to balance him out as no one else ever had or ever could.

How could it be otherwise? Those few nights Hajime stayed in the hall long enough to fall asleep, all seemed right with the world for a few more hours at a time. The dangerous peace of night suited him, as did the hot flush of sake across his ordinarily cold features. Yet, even drunk, he still listened far more than he spoke, and only rarely talked of himself. Though Souji usually learned nothing of importance from their trivial conversations, even the most minor details seemed crucial to his understanding.

Hajime wasted no more words than he did sake, so Souji paid such close attention to his countenance in those tipsy twilit moments that he unconsciously memorized his appearance. How innocently he blushed a deeper shade of crimson, all the way to his ears, whenever the conversation turned to women. How he fidgeted with his silken scarf if the others talked over him. And, most prominently, his  _smile_ —a little more easily elicited than when he was sober, yet still rare and precious. Shy, almost, or self-conscious. (As he had no right to be.)

Souji rarely drank as much as the others, so he was often the first one awake to greet the early summer dawn, red and peaceful and long-shadowed—still but far from silent, the songs of insects and birds just beginning to fill the air, carried to his ears by the light cool breeze stirring his hair. Souji's eyes lingered on Hajime most, because he'd seen him least. He looked the same in sleep as he did awake, perfectly calm and motionless but for his steady breathing.

One of those mornings had been the last time he saw him before today.

After that, Hajime stopped coming to Shiei Hall. At first, Souji believed he might have temporarily left the area; a man as strong as he  _couldn't_  have fallen ill. But the days dragged on, longer and longer, and then stretched into weeks, until finally Souji was forced to admit that for one reason or another, Hajime was gone.

Thereafter, his days felt empty, and something hollow ached in his chest—like Hajime had taken a part of him when he abandoned Souji. (Just like his sister.) Even matches against his inferiors had felt so much more rewarding when Hajime had shared the same burden, or better still, borne witness. Alone again, Souji couldn't help but think that perhaps he hadn't been good enough to keep him there… that he had found some other purpose, some worthier rival. That he had never felt the same way, and never would.

But all those long lonely months seem to vanish in the haze as Souji savors the sight of Hajime, back again and standing before him in the courtyard once more. It's a fair day made fairer by the blue of his eyes, glinting in the sunlight after their latest sparring match. Others might see Hajime as cold and distant, but Souji can sense the warmth hidden deep inside his heart: the fire of their shared fate, stoked and burning bright once more.

Yet, despite the familiarity of the scene curling comfortably around him, something has changed.  _Hajime_  has changed. Their swords knew each other, but his movements were no longer as predictable; carefully honed, as always, but not quite the same. Hajime has already insisted that he has not trained at another dojo since, but Souji knows better than that.

There is little more to say; the match has ended, and with it, their purpose together. Hajime bows his head briefly and turns away, evidently ready to return to the main hall and catch up with some of the others. But Souji isn't ready to let him go; he can't let him walk away from him, from this. He needs reassurance that this is still the man he once knew—his rival, his equal, his beginning. "Hajime-kun," says Souji, taking a single step forward; Hajime says nothing, only turns his head slightly to glance over his shoulder. "Welcome back."

The smile he gives Souji then, so quietly brilliant that it stops his heart more easily than any killing blow, is all the reassurance he needs.


End file.
